The Crack in the Wall
by Not that way never go that way
Summary: A crack in time and space shows up in 221B, throwing Sherlock and John into new bodies, separating them in a strange new world with magic, orcs and hobbits. Will they ever be able to find one another again, and will they ever return to their home? A raggity man with a blue box might help. ((Johnlock in later chapters))
1. The Crack in the Wall

"Where did that crack in the wall come from? It wasn't there before, I would have noticed or better yet, Mrs. Hudson would have noticed it. Did you notice it?" Sherlock glanced at John questioningly for a tiny moment, not long enough for him to respond before he began speaking again. "It obviously isn't a normal crack because if you look at the way it was formed, it doesn't fit in with the type of wall this is AND!" Sherlock swirled around raising his hand to touch it lightly. "It's glowing, don't you see?" He took his hand away as it felt hot like touching a light bulb, backing away from it. "There is something quite unique about this crack, and it's slowly growing brighter, so you see,-"

Sherlock turned back to John who had gone to see the crack Sherlock had been going on about, only to find him gone. "John? John?!" He looked around the room, finding absolutely no evidence that John had left the room and immediately turned to the crack, whispering to himself in wonder.

"Eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth..."

He glared at the wall and decided to begin shouting at it for all the good it would do. "Give John back, he's important." At this, the crack had begun glowing brighter, as if in reaction to Sherlock. "Ah, so you /can/ hear me! Interesting. I wonder what you would do if I..." He began banging on the wall as hard as he could with his fists as the crack grew brighter and brighter. "Give John back, he's the only friend I've got!" With that, the light was gone, and so was Sherlock.

* * *

Sherlock woke up feeling quite strange. For one thing, he felt as though someone had hit him in the stomach, but for another, he felt extra...limbs. He stood up and looked down at himself, finding his nails long and sharp like talons and some patches of his skin covered in deep red scales. He felt something heavy that he had to hold up with his shoulder blades so he turned his head to find black and red wings.

The more subtle changes weren't noticed until he'd gotten over the idea that he must be under some hallucinatory drug of some sort, despite the fact that he couldn't pinpoint anything with effects quite this realistic. He looked at his surroundings and all he could see for miles was gold and other some such treasures spewn about the cave he seemed to be in.

He wandered around and eventually found a golden mirror in a pile, raising an eyebrow at how silly he looked with black hair, yellow eyes, quite odd-looking ears, and...were those vampire teeth? He reached up a hand to check if they were actually his teeth and, unfortunately, it seemed he was stuck like this.

Well, nothing he could do about it. He supposed he could just wait for the drug to wear off, but after about ten minutes of sitting in the gold he got bored and wandered off deeper into the caves, yet never finding an exit.

* * *

John woke up slowly with the sun in his face, not noticing anything strange for the first couple seconds until he remembered that he'd just been looking at a crack in the wall, not sleeping. He bolted out of his bed, standing up and looking around frantically as he didn't recognize any on his surroundings. "Sherlock!" He swallowed nervously before be began walking around the strange house, becoming more confused by the moment, even more so when he found a mirror and noticed his change. He rubbed his eyes and gave out an exasperated sigh before deciding that he MUST be dreaming. "/This/ is not happening." He walked over to the sofa, sitting down a moment to process before noticing an interesting paper on the footrest...

* * *

((Author's note: Yeah. I don't know why I thought it was a good idea to mix Sherlock with The Hobbit and Doctor Who at the same time, but it was really really fun to write so that ought to count for something.))


	2. The Dragon and the Hobbit

Sherlock banged at the wall of the cave in frustration. He had only been in there for a couple weeks, but for him, it may as well have been months. He hadn't gotten hungry yet, which was simply another oddity to add to his list. Over time, he'd realized many strange things his new body could do, but never found any reasons behind how they worked. He realized that the likeliness of this being the effects of a drug were unlikely, considering how vivid it was- that combined with the fact he'd not encountered /anything/ in the past few weeks just made this the most confusing puzzle he'd ever come across.

He'd considered a variety of strange things, all of which seemed utterly ridiculous, but locked in a cave with nothing but his thoughts of this to occupy him was driving him insane. No new information, no deductions to make, no John.

Where was John? He'd disappeared through the crack as well, so he'd wondered if John was in a similar situation. Maybe he was trapped, just like Sherlock was. Maybe he was scared. Maybe he was looking for Sherlock. He couldn't be sure.

If he was honest, he missed John. He missed having someone to talk to, rather than a pile of gold to mumble at. He missed 221B and Mrs. Hudson, he even occasionally wished to see Lestrade on bad days.

He decided to kneel down before a stack of coins and see if he could instead focus his attention on using his...strange abilities to melt them. Better than complaining to the darkness.

He breathed a spit of fire at the coins, trying to keeping it consistent. The fire lit up the smallest portion of the usually pitch black cave, but small as it may be, he appreciated it. His eyes could see in the darkness perfectly, but the light of a fire brought him a strange sense of familiarity and as his here time wore on, he would need that.

* * *

John looked over at the dwarves through the light of the fire they'd lit for the night. Most of them were sleeping, although a few stayed up for watch. He sighed. John remembered this story. He'd read it when he was young, never thought he'd be stuck in it, but he had been able to use his memories of how it went to get past dangers.

He shivered and turned his head to look over the edge of the mountain they were camping on, staring thoughtfully into the night sky. He had joined this quest really because he couldn't think of any other possibility for how to get out of the...dream? He supposed it would end when the book was finished.

He wondered how Sherlock was. He was still at their flat when he he'd touched the crack, but he kind of hoped Sherlock was here, making deductions about the dwarves or the trolls he'd defeated, regardless of what it would be about, his ramblings would be a comfort, were he there.

* * *

((Author's Note: I'm not too good with John's character, but I tried. That's something, right?))


	3. The Lonely Mountain

Sherlock groaned unhappily as he perched up on a stone ledge, looking down at the gigantic cave. He had learned how to fly over the course of time, and had by now gotten bored of it. He flew down to the ground and blew fire at the wall for kicks. He'd been here for far too long, and was beginning to consider the possibility of being stuck in this cave forever. He was running out of ideas and things to think about.

It had been four months. Four bloody months and nothing had happened to him. Alone, in the dark, for four months. Of course, to him the time he'd spent here felt much longer, and with no day or night to tell him how much time had passed, it felt like a year. He had begun to accept that there would never be a way out. He'd hit every crack he could find and flown in every inch of the cave without anything happening.

He banged his head against the now warm wall in anger before jumping up and flying over to the treasury, examining the different piles he had made. With all that time and practically nothing else to do, he'd mixed and re-sorted the coins and treasures in every way possible, just for something to do with his hands as the time passed- something to use in order to distract himself from his thoughts.

He needed to distract himself, because his thoughts would always be memories- times gone by in places he'd never see again, with people he would never meet again. John.

He could feel a tug at the back of his mind, sometimes like a voice that couldn't quite be understood. It was sinister and terrible, yet something about it felt familiar. He'd decided long ago that this was likely a parallel dimension, so he supposed the voice could be stuck in some sort of constant conflict between his body/mind and the body/mind of the person...no, creature who's body had obviously been merged with his.

He groaned loudly and let himself fall into a cold, painful pile of gold. With nothing to think about, he found himself...feeling. Frequently. He would feel terror sometimes when the voice was loud, and he would feel sentiment when he let his mind wander to John.

Worst of all, he would feel overwhelming sadness. It usually came along when he thought about John and Baker Street. It was awful. How did people live with themselves, feeling these emotions all the time? He'd thought it would be boring, and it is- but it's also distracting. Sometimes, he would let himself feel just because it was pointless not to, because it was better than being empty of both thought and emotion- because it kept him sane.

Sometimes, he would sing. He would compose songs in his head and sing them just to see if he could. Other times, he would just yell. Yell for help, yell in anger, in frustration, in hope that he wasn't alone.

There was never a response.


	4. Cogito Ergo Sum

Six months, now.

In all his life, Sherlock had never experienced a time so boring- so...lonely. He didn't dream here, and there was nothing left to stimulate his mind. He'd attempted so many things in his attempt to escape, even tried making a bomb to get out, but that had only ended him with several injuries and some fallen rocks.

Day by day, he slowly let his emotions in. With so much time and nothing to do, emotions were his only way to cope, they were his drug. He used his mind to create situations and experiment with different emotional reactions he may or may not have. Most of those situations imagined him murdering whomever put him in this situation in many different creative ways, but then there were the other times. The rare moments when he let his mind guard down enough to imagine John.

He would think of so many different things he could have said, things he shouldn't have said, and the great many memories he wanted to tuck away and keep- just to ensure that as the time passed and he was alone, he would never forget them.

Then, there was that feeling. That feeling of constant anxiety and dread that gnawed at his mind, as though there was something there to tug him further and further away from himself until he began to wonder if he was ever really Sherlock.

He was slowly going insane.

He would often hit the walls of the cave until his hands bled, just to feel something that he remembered as being real. Reptile people weren't real, living on for six months without sustenance wasn't real either, but pain was real. Blood was real. That proved he actually existed, didn't it?

He knew it wasn't helping. He knew needed to stop, he needed to find something to think about to keep him from losing his sanity entirely.

_I think, therefore I am._

He stopped pacing and went to his mind palace, thinking back on every case he hadn't solved, every mystery he could still remember. No matter how pointless, he had to keep his mind going, he couldn't simply let the great Sherlock Holmes forget who he was so easily. What would John think if he found Sherlock in such a state?

He didn't want to think about the idea of John leaving him there after so long, it would be too much after everything he's been through these past months. He absolutely could not let John find him and not recognize him, he wouldn't allow it.


	5. Friends Reunited

Sherlock woke up slowly to the sound of echoing footsteps. Footsteps that sounded like many people.

People were in his cave. Finally! He immediately jumped into the air, flying quickly in the general direction of the noise before he paused and hid behind a pillar, deciding it better to take a look at them before they took a look at him. They were...big, but short men..? Midgets? No, too tall. Dwarves, more likely. There was also a taller, elderly man in gray carrying a staff. The lot of them looked so silly and foreign, Sherlock could deduce very little about them.

They had all recently eaten, and they looked quite worn. Travelers. Archeologists? No, they're carrying weapons- medieval ones at that. Role-players? No, those were real weapons, and from the looks of it, they've been using them in real battle.

Sherlock hid in the shadows and let them pass him without their notice, only now seeing the shorter man trailing behind them, glancing about wearily. He looked familiar. Regardless, these people were his only chance at a way out, so he called out to them. "Excuse me." He waved a hand through the air in greeting, keeping his distance as to not frighten them.

Sherlock took a step forward, and they drew their swords, looking at him in slight confusion and apprehension. "I seem to be lost and can't find my way out of this cave, would you mind telling me how you got in here?" he paused as realization struck him, his eyes widening for a moment as he took in their behavior.

"Ah...So, you're here to kill me. Must want the...gold, no doubt? Ah, but I have a question for you before you do that -" he began walking swiftly forward, trying to seem intimidating. He lifted his hand up to point out John, unknowing that it was his friend. "Why- would you bring /him/? He's obviously unsettled by the cave, that much is obvious, that and the fact that he was gawking at the gold says this isn't his usual cuppa tea, and he obviously isn't here as brawn, so...brain?" He tilted his head and looked tensely at the group, hoping they wouldn't jump him. In this dim light, they likely wouldn't stand much of a chance- there were a few of them that must be quite skilled going by their demeanor and their muscles, but they probably couldn't see in the dark like he could.

John's eyes narrowed at the dragon-man, that most certainly was not something Smaug would say. "What did you just say...dragon? 'Not your cuppa tea'?"

Sherlock looked nearly offended as he rolled his eyes at the short one, dropping his guard a bit, they could kill him for all he cared, he just wanted out. "As I said before, I'm lost." He crossed his arms as he made the decision to rant to the entire group about all the deductions he'd been able to make of his situation thus far, not actually caring whether or not they understood. He /needed/ to talk to someone. "I had previously thought this must've been some type of hallucinatory drug at first, maybe a dream, but every one of my senses are functioning properly, so- I am in a parallel world where I'm some sort of mythical beast, what was it you referred to me as? A dragon was it? excellent, now I know where these wings must have come from. Let me ask you this one small thing- do dragons normally have humanoid bodies and speaking abilities? I think not. I must conclude that I am /not/ the same beast that you lot came here to get rid of, so please just show me the way out and I'll be off. You can just go ahead and take the gold, I don't care."

He bent down to get a better look at the hobbit, his wings towering over him as he invaded John's personal space in an attempt to intimidate him. "If you are indeed the brain of the group, then I suggest you tell your.../friends/ to put their swords down immediately and back off, lest you pointlessly risk their lives further." He stood up at full length, rolling his eyes about the room in semi-boredom. "I hate being outnumbered, makes for far too much stupidity in the room."

"Are you calling me stupid, 'Smaug'? I'll have you know that I am no such thing. I'll have you know that I have solved-" John caught himself knowing that he wasn't in London anymore. He became a bit sad but wouldn't show weakness to this.../smart ass/ dragon. John looked at his friends and told them put down their weapons but gave them a look as in telling them to keep an eye on the dragon. John looked back at Smaug and gave him a irritated look. "Now what? Are you gonna kill us, then?"

Sherlock smirked, deciding to sit cross-legged on the ground to speak properly on John's level. "I'm only looking for a way out. I'd like to get back to London, although I'm sure you have no idea where that is, so if you would show me the way out, I'd be off."

John was shocked by such language from a dragon in a book. "How do you know of such place? You should have no knowledge of-" John stopped talking as he then remembered that he shouldn't either. "Why would you want to go back to this.../London/...when a dragon like you would need to protect a treasure so big as this one?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, looking at John pointedly. "What treasure? The gold? Boring, unimportant, useless. I have a...friend that I must be getting back to, so if you can just point me towards Baker Street, I'll be out of your hair. Is that so hard?"

John's eyes shot wide in shock. He was done with the plot of the story, this was getting even more weird than it already was. "How the /hell/ do you know about Baker Street?! There's no way you-"

Sherlock's eyes widened. He knew this man sounded familiar! He had really been there so long that he'd forgotten John's voice. "JOHN!" Sherlock was so incredibly happy to see him that he literally just picked him up and hugged him tightly to his chest. He'd been alone in a strange land with absolutely nothing to do for months now, but it was okay, because John was there.


	6. A Blue Police Box

John was shaken by the spontaneous roar of the dragon-man's voice. In the blink of an eye, John was being embraced by Smaug. The dragon-man had squeezed John a bit to hard and he started to loose breath. "S...sto-...I...c...can't...brea-"

Sherlock's eyes widened as he let John go, bending down to continue to speak on John's level, holding onto his shoulder and shaking him a bit as he spoke. "John, the name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B Baker Street! You /do/ remember me, I know you do, don't you dare pretend you can't recognize me. I used to have brown hair and looked less lizard like, but it is me!" He beamed excitedly at the Hobbit, his voice filling with hope for his companion.

John, to say the least, was confused."Sher-...Sherlock?" He swallowed and dropped the sword he had been holding and at clanged on the stone ground. He took a step forward to look carefully at Sherlock's face. "It's really...?"

Sherlock slowly began to smile before he noticed something in the background that wasn't quite right, his smile faltering as he spoke. "Yes, it is, now can we move past this tedious part of recognition and talk about what exactly we're going to do about the fact that your companions seem to be drawing their swords?" Sherlock looked over John's shoulder to the group of dwarves and the wizard, who had been talking over what to do and decided that they would slay the dragon at all costs. "We.../might/ want to run." With that, Sherlock picked John up and carried him in one arm, taking flight into the general direction that the group had previously been coming from, making sure to go as fast as he could to get away from them, looking down to John after they were far away enough to slow down- hoping that his grip hadn't hurt his precious blogger. "John, I know you're confused, but I need you to point the way out to me."

John still wasn't sure about the dragon really being Sherlock but he felt in no position to argue. He nodded and looked forward and saw a fork that he had come through before. "You have to turn left!" he yelled over all the noise Sherlock's wings made in the echoing cave.

Sherlock only nodded back before swiftly flying left, pulling John up and holding him bridal style to make him more comfortable and maybe a bit less terrified as they traveled through the cave and to the exit with the help of John's memory. As soon as they were out, Sherlock set John down on the grass, panting and falling on his knees in an attempt to catch his breath.

As soon as John had recovered, he looked anxiously at Sherlock. He didn't like the thought of Sherlock being a dragon. He was destructive enough as a human. He needed to think, alone. There were too many strange, mythical creatures here with strange powers, if this one had read his mind or something, then he couldn't risk his life further. He began running for the trees, reaching into his pocket for the ring.

Sherlock looked up in horror as John was nearly out of his sight entirely and into the woods. He didn't want to be alone again. He was completely by himself for so long and all because he'd wanted his friend back. He flew forth, knowing that he could catch up, but also knowing that he wouldn't be able to do anything if he lost sight of John. "John, wait! Please, I-.../wait/!" The desperation seeping into his voice as he landed in front of John to stop him from going any further.

The vibration of Sherlock landing made John fumble to the ground and scrape his arm. He was panting hard as he looked up at Sherlock. "If you were really Sherlock you would have told me you knew everything about my journey here and every detail about what I've been doing these past six months and you would brag about what you can do, yet you didn't! You're not Sherlock."

Sherlock's face twitched in sadness as he swallowed and knelt to John's level. "I've been otherwise...occupied, John. It's much more difficult to deduce when the world is suddenly set in some sort of strange fantasy universe. I've been living in that cave by myself for a very long time looking for a way out. You have no /idea/ how boring that was, I nearly went insane!" He huffed and accidentally blew a small fire, not large enough to be a threat to John.

John considered this for a moment, but ultimately accepted it. "That's more like it." he slowly sat up. "Now..." he said as he stood up and brushed the dirt off his pants, "...I thought slaying the 'Dragon' would wake me from the dream or send me back to London, but I suppose that's not really much of an option now. Any ideas?"

Sherlock smiled slightly but tried to suppress it- unsuccessfully. "I suppose we could wander about looking for another crack, or we could-" Just as he was about to start spewing different ideas, something blue caught his eyes that certainly wasn't there before. Not many blue police boxes in the average forest. "...or we could ask the police. Might be something from the other side of the crack." Sherlock nodded his head toward the box for John to notice it, tilting his head to the side a bit as he examined it from afar. "London. There must be more than one crack...or the crack moves and consumes everything in it's path. Either way!" Sherlock stood up, smiling over at John. "It seems that the game is on!" He sprinted towards the police box, expecting John to follow.

John started running for the box, but on a more hobbit-friendly route. He tried to keep the same pace and keep Sherlock within view, but to no such avail.

Sherlock slowed down and flew beside John. "Would you like to be carried again?"

John gave Sherlock a evil look, but agreed it would be faster for them both."Fine." he ran into a clearing nearby and waited for Sherlock to snatch him up like prey.

Sherlock landed next to him and carefully picked him up, this time much more gently, carrying him and flying quickly to the police box, setting him back down in front of it.

John tried to open the door, but it seemed to be locked from he inside. He sighed in frustration. "Now what?"

"I suppose...we knock." Sherlock smirked and knocked on the door.


	7. Meeting the Doctor

The two consulting detetives waited in silence before suddenly hearing a few distant bangs and clangs from inside the box, then the sounds of footsteps dashing towards them from inside the box.

_Wait, what?_

A strange, raggity man slowly opened the door, only just enough to see who was knocking. The man's eyes widened as he stepped outside, shutting the door behind him and putting on a pair of glasses, looking at them both with fascination, curiosity, and slight confusion. He raised an eyebrow for the tiniest moment before reaching his hand out up in between them for whichever one decided to grab it. "Hello, I'm the Doctor, and it is /very/ nice to meet you!"

Sherlock grabbed the Doctor's hand and shook it briefly. "Hello, Sherlock Holmes, and this-" He motioned to John. "-is my friend, John Watson."

The Doctor looked over to John and shook hands with him, smiling boyishly at the both of them. "/The/ Sherlock Holmes and Doctor John Watson. Amazing! I am so excited to meet the both of you, just look at you! You're real! I'd thought you were just storybook characters!" He circled them excitedly, taking some small, strange looking electronic device and buzzing it all over them before Sherlock grabbed the Doctor's hand to stop him.

"Have you finished scanning us, 'Doctor'? You obviously came from London, so let's keep this simple, shall we? John and I are looking for a way back to London, so if you don't mind telling us how you got here yourself?"

"Doctor? Doctor who?"

The Doctor in smiled a big grin at John's question. "Just the Doctor, thank you!" He looked back over to Sherlock, "Well, I came here on my ship, would you like to come take a peek?" He opened the door to the Police Box and hopped inside joyfully, expecting Sherlock and John to follow.

Sherlock walked in first, his eyes widening as he saw the interior, backing out of it before John could even see the inside, giving the Doctor an accusatory look. "What is this? How does this work, is there some sort of multi-universal cloaking device? No, unlikely, going by the fact that the exterior is entirely functional for all intents and purposes, it must be multi-/dimensional/. I was wrong, you're not from modern London, you're from future London." The Doctor looked at Sherlock, amazement showing on his face. "Yes, I am. I'm a Time-Lord. From the future. In another dimension, and /this/" he motioned to the TARDIS all around him. "is my T.A.R.D.I.S. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. You good with that?"

Sherlock stood for a bit to try to properly process the information, blinking with the most flabbergasted expression. After a moment, he simply fainted, falling on the TARDIS floor. John hadn't entered the TARDIS until he heard a big 'BOOM' come from inside. Before John got to Sherlock he was amazed by the the room on this small police box. "Its...Its...It's smaller on the outside.. How is that possible?"

The Doctor nodded his head to the side a bit. "er...wibbly wobbly, spacey-wasy...stuff- it's complicated, is he going to be alright?" He walked over to Sherlock's limp body, turning it over so he wouldn't be laying on his face.

John didn't even bother to look at Sherlock because he had to many other interesting things to look at. "Oh, he'll be fine. How do you...use it?"

The Doctor smiled and looked around at his TARDIS, smiling proudly. "She's beautiful isn't she? The console is over here, this is where I put in the settings and all that. Come, take a look!"


	8. Draconion, Maybe?

The Doctor didn't have to say that twice. Within seconds John was standing right by him, staring at the console. "Absolutely amazing!" After John was thinking about all the places he could go and the things he could see he remembered that they were not in their own world and that we were planning to find a way home and...they've found it. "Would it be to much trouble to take Sherlock and I back to London?"

The Doctor gave John a sympathetic look. "Normally, I'd do just that, but unfortunately, there's this crack in the universe that I need to deal with. If you come along for the ride, I can look for your universe but I'm afraid it may take a while. The crack in the universe has been mixing up the dimensions like a blender, so the TARDIS is finding it difficult to tell one dimension from another. We may end up in a stranger world then this one next, were we to attempt leaving before the crack is sealed."

John looked at The Doctor surprisingly. "You've seen the crack? What is it? Why is it here? Is that what brought us here? What does it do /exactly/?"

"ehhh...it's...complicated. It's partially my fault, I wanted to meet Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, despite the fact that you were fictional characters, and ended up blowing a crack in the universe that caused a rift or a bridge to form between fictional dimensions and real ones." The Doctor began picking Sherlock up, dragging him across the console room and towards a hallway. "Come with me, he needs a good place to lay down."

John, just now getting out of his daze, finally actually realized what happened to Sherlock. "Oh..um..yes. Of course." John followed The Doctor down some halls and into a little wing that comes off the hallway. The Doctor stopped in front of a door on the left and asked John to open it, which he was happy to do so. They walked inside, leaving the door open and pulling Sherlock with them.

They lay down Sherlock's body on the bed, his wings making it troublesome though they managed well enough. "He looks like he's never eaten in his life, how did he survive this long? Is he... Draconion? Draconions can survive months without nourishment, but only barely..."

John looked at The Doctor in puzzlement. "How do you know so much?" He then looked at Sherlock. He did look pale. "Do you have a kitchen? I'd like to make him something to eat. Maybe a feast." John smiled.

The Doctor smiled back. "I travel. Oh, yes I do have a kitchen! Come with me!" He led the way to the kitchen.


	9. Sherlock Wakes

Sherlock groaned as he opened his eyes, having absolutely no idea where he was and why his head hurt so much. He heard voices, so he turned his head to see John in the hallway, talking with the Doctor. He could hear something along the lines of "I'll leave you to helping him process, I need to go fix the..." He couldn't understand that last word. The Doctor left and John walked in, carrying a tray of food.

He smiled up at his friend. "...Hello, John. Where are we?"

John set the food on the night stand next to the bed and then felt Sherlock's forehead before he answered. "We're in The Doctor's...TARDIS. We're safe. But I think It'll be a bit longer before we can go home. Just rest for the time being."

Sherlock raised his hand and reached over to gently touch John's face, his talon-like nails lightly brushing John's cheek. "You look so different from how I remember..."

"I would say the same to you but it's pretty bloody obvious." John chuckled. "I made you some soup. Thought you might be hungry."

Sherlock smiled, revealing his two pointy teeth. "Excellent, I haven't eaten since we arrived. Curious, how many months I've lived in that cave without food. Dragons must be different." He dropped his hand from John's face and slowly sat up, being mindful of his wings as to not hit John with them. He leaned over and grabbed the tray, ignoring all utensils and gulping down the soup in one go. He huffed in relief and ended up breathing a small bit of fire out, luckily not burning the bowl. "Still getting used to that."

John smiled, "Do you want some more? I made plenty."

"No, that is enough to keep me alive." Sherlock gave him a quick grin before picking up the tray and putting it back on the nightstand, sighing as he fell back into the bed, looking up at the ceiling in thought.

John didn't believe him. One bowl of soup satisfied him after not eating for months. "I don't think so, Sherlock I want you to eat more, you /need/ to eat more than that after not eating for months."

Sherlock made a face at John. "I'm fine, John, stop fretting about."

John gave Sherlock one of the looks he gives him when he's annoying him. "You're going to eat something more and that's it." With that John picked up the tray and walked to the kitchen to get more food.

* * *

Sherlock pouted as John returned with another tray full of food, crossing his arms in a child-like manner. "Not hungry, it only wastes time, John."

"Don't you start with me. You're gonna eat this one way or the other. Sherlock, you haven't eaten in months. You can't just eat something that little and be okay."

"I said I'm /fine/, John!" Sherlock snapped at John, glaring at him with his yellow eyes. "You don't- It doesn't MATTER, John! We're lost in a foreign universe and I'm a bloody DRAGON! What's the /point/?"

John was surprised by Sherlock's outburst, but he had to keep his cool and try to understand from Sherlock's perspective. "Fine." was all he could really say and walked out of the room to ask The Doctor for their status on returning.

Sherlock whined. "No, wait! I'm sorry, please come back. I don't want to be alone again."

"You should have thought about that before you pushed everyone away. Including me." John said as he looked back at Sherlock quickly before leaving the room.


	10. An Adventure or Two

Sherlock sat, trying to calm himself down. Even after all this time, John still somehow had the mysterious ability to elicit emotion in him. It seemed that although he'd escaped the cave, he was just as alone as before.

He stood and kicked the bed stand, not paying any mind to the fact that such a small action was able to toss it to the wall. He was tired of being stuck in a room.

He would leave and he would find something entertaining to do and he would deduce things and go back to who he used to be- someone who never cared much for other people.

With that decision, he walked out the door, wandering around the TARDIS aimlessly. There were a great deal of...things there. He thought 'things' for lack of a better description- thus far, he'd passed a room full of typewriters and keyboards, a room made entirely out of foam, and now he found himself looking at a giant library with a swimming pool in it. It was like a dream. Nothing made any sense and everything seemed random, but there /must/ be a method, surely? There must be some explanation for everything here. He just didn't know what they were. He passed by a large group of bottles, all of which were titled as different volumes of "Encyclopedia Gallifreya" and almost seemed to whisper in his ear words he didn't recognize.

Eventually, he came to a very large, very important looking book on it's own stand. "The History Of The Time War" was engraved on the cover, and there were odd circles connecting to each other around the words. He opened it up, glancing through the pages upon pages of gibberish circle writing until he came to a page near the center of the book that he could read. It was translated by somebody, they'd written it down on the edge.

* * *

John had finally found his way to the console but The Doctor was no where in sight. He heard foot steps coming his way. He turned around thinking it was The Doctor. "Doctor, that you?"

The Doctor stepped out, hands in his pockets. "You could travel with me, you know. You and Sherlock. He's tired and lonely. I understand why he hurts, I've seen the blog, I've read the books, and I have been there. He's lived a longer life than most in such a short time."

John's eyebrows squished together in puzzlement. "What do you mean?"

The Doctor removed his glasses, putting them in his pocket, speaking sadly in remembrance of all those who are gone. "He's lost someone. Someone he loved- someone he cared about. She's gone now, and if she wasn't, they couldn't be together. They weren't right for each other, but you- you're **the** John Watson, and in every universe, every dimension- you have always been there for him, just as he has always been there for you, one way or another. Don't lose sight of what matters."

"Every dimension, really?" He shook his head, bringing himself back to the point. " Sorry, It's just that whenever I try to do something he-...he just snaps back like he doesn't...understand why I'm concerned."

The Doctor sighed. "I think he pushes you away because he doesn't want to lose you. If he believes that Irene's death was his fault, he might break if he lost you as well. What was he doing in the time he was locked up in that cave? What goes through a man's mind when he's separated from the only thing that keeps him from breaking, thrown into a foreign world and a foreign body, into a cave with nothing but endless darkness and his thoughts? Sure, he's out of that cave now, but his mind is still in that mindset, and it's going to take time to heal. To be locked in the darkness alone for so long and not lose your mind takes a great deal of strength, and right now he's weak. You are the only person who has ever been there for him before. Just...don't forget that you're the most important person he has." He began to leave the room, pausing before he did. "Talk with Sherlock. I'm sure he wouldn't mind an adventure or two, as long as _you_ were travelling with him." and off he went, leaving John to his thoughts.

* * *

((Author's Note: Sorry it took so long to update! I actually have two different endings to this fic and I wasn't sure which one to post. Would anyone be interested in seeing Sherlock and John travel with the Doctor into a bunch of different dimensions, or would you rather just see more of them stuck in the Hobbit universe? I'll probably post both paths, but whichever one I don't do first will be put in a side story as an alternate ending.))


	11. Time Distortions

John decided to take the Doctor's advice. He would talk to Sherlock. He began walking to Sherlock's room and pondered on how to lightly strike up a conversation, but before he could think of anything, he was already standing in front of Sherlock's door. He knocked gently. "Sherlock? Are you in there?"

No response.

* * *

Sherlock heard a splash of water somewhere behind him almost as soon as he'd finished reading, almost immediately followed by the sound of past-paced footsteps that stopped abruptly. He turned around, walking cautiously towards the swimming pool to find no one there. There were, however, droplets of water on the floor that trailed to a bookcase then vanished from that point on.

No traces of water on the books themselves, either. Secret passage, then.

He began to look around for anything that looked as though it was moved frequently or wet from being touched when the Doctor showed up behind him, almost out of nowhere. He was grinning proudly, hands in his pockets. "The TARDIS thinks _highly_ of you. This library was locked because of the time distortions, but she unlocked it for you."

Sherlock turned around, raising an inquisitive brow. "Time distortions, in the TARDIS? I don't suppose that's _common_ in a _time machine_." He said sarcastically as he took a step forward, slightly hopping the avoid the puddle. "Is it related to the crack?" The Doctor shook his head, bending down to stare distractedly at the bits of water on the floor. "No, it's something else, not from this time. Something either happened or is going to happen in the TARDIS that's looping not only occurrences in time, but some that are only possible occurrences happening is alternate dimensions- a rupture in the dimensional sequences of the universe. it has made, or is going to make small tear in the fabric of the continuum. It's be the only reason I was able to make it to a supposedly fictional universe. The TARDIS must have seen the dimensional vortex that was opened, then decided to use it as transportation." He spoke quickly, nearly interrupting himself with his question. "-but you're not even _wet_, how did you get this water all the way over here?"

"A '_rupture_ _in the dimensional sequences of the universe_?'" Sherlock sneered, "And you're not doing anything about it? You're just going to seal the area off until it simply goes away?"

The Doctor shrugged as he returned to full height. "Nothing I can do about it, it's a problem in a different time reaching out and touching mine. If the problem started in this time, I could do something, but I can't do anything to fix it until I know what's caused it...-you didn't answer my question, how did this get here?"

Sherlock took a glance back to the bookcase. "Someone was hiding from me in the swimming pool, then ran when I came to investigate. She was small, wearing heeled boots from the looks of it, however, her trail ends here."

The Doctor nearly jumped into the air with excitement. "Yes! You are _definitely _Sherlock Holmes!" Said detective was caught a bit off guard, only expecting John to appreciate his work. The Doctor caught the look and interpreted it as a glare, calming himself down a bit and obviously trying hard to push his smile down. "Sorry, big fan. Even cosplayed as you once- well, not you exactly, Arthur Conan Doyle's interpretation of you." He raised his hand to explain before Sherlock could even ask. "In my universe, you and John are just characters in the Sherlock Holmes book series." Sherlock simply nodded in acceptance, deciding he might ask more about it when there isn't an interesting case to focus on.

He turned his head back to examine the bookcase before the Doctor interrupted him once again, this time with the whirring, buzzing sound of his sonic screwdriver. "Don't touch that bookcase! Sorry to interrupt your deducing, but whoever she was, she probably just fell through another fracture somewhere around here. It should have moved or sealed itself up by now, but it's probably best to stay away from that area, you know, just in case."

Just as Sherlock was about to respond, they both heard John shouting from the hallway just outside the library. "Sherlock! ...Doctor! Where the bloody hell are you two?!"


End file.
